


Trust

by HoneyGrunge



Category: Prey (Video Game 2017)
Genre: Body Horror, Horror, Male Solo, Masturbation, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21606517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyGrunge/pseuds/HoneyGrunge
Summary: After finally reaching his office, Morgan needs some relaxation.
Relationships: January & Morgan Yu, January/Morgan Yu
Kudos: 16





	Trust

Despite the presence of the turret, Morgan still glances over his shoulder as he enters the access code to his office. Paranoia is settled deep now, so deep that even after this shitshow is over he'll always be suspicious of his morning coffee. He enters and quickly sets the room to lockdown, squinting down at the vent to make sure it closes. The room has an emergency oxygen system so it's not like he'll suffocate. 

Although, considering the circumstances, lack of oxygen wouldn't be the best worst way to die.

"Now's not a good time to be suicidal," Morgan mutters to himself as he slowly advances, tapping everything with the wrench just in case. 

Despite his annoyance at the suicidal thought, he really can't blame himself. With fuck knows how many memories ripped out and replaced, it makes complete sense that his brain would slip into a likely permanent depression. And with no other humans to be found, he's honestly shocked it's mild instead of severe.

But he wasn't recruited for a tendency towards cracking under pressure, that's for sure.

His station phone rings, January's voice echoing through the room as soon as he accepts it.

"I assume you'll want to watch that video as soon as poss-"

"No," Morgan interrupts, and January falls silent. "I need some sleep before I shoot myself in the face. I'll call for you if I need you."

"...okay," January agrees, sounding slightly offended. The line falls dead and Morgan turns his attention back to the room, finally deciding that no mimics have crawled their way into his private quarters. 

A slight blush colors his cheeks as he enters another code to reveal his "bedroom": a surprisingly comfortable fold-out bed, a compact dresser, and a small collection of personal items. He walks over and squats, pulling open the bottom tray of his personal organizer. The source of his shame stares back at him, reflecting the dim light of space as it clinks against a half empty bottle of lube.

Masturbation and sex have always been Morgan's answer to stress, no matter how debilitating the stress seemed. Oddly enough, that's one thing he CAN remember despite his brain being a huge lump of swiss cheese. He was treated for sex addiction as a 20-something before being admitted to the family project; hopefully more memories of his life before keep coming back. Who knows how long he went without releasing while in that fucked up simulation.

He reaches in and grabs both of the items, moving back towards the bed and slumping onto it. His sturdy legs hang off the edge and his feet stay firmly planted on the floor as he pops the suit's seal and wiggles it off, impatiently tossing it across the room. Next he works the band of his briefs down below his balls, which are tender and swollen with need. He caresses his sensitive right nut and gently squeezes, gasping at the bubbles of pleasure that shiver up his spine. He can't recall ever being particularly fixated on having his balls played with, but then again he can't remember much now.

He fumbles for the fleshlight and pops the cap off with a thumb, almost groaning at the dark, velvety imitation skin. His dick twitches and he feels a drop of precum trickle down his shaft, the ghostly stimulation almost driving him to madness. Trembling, he grabs the lube and squeezes a generous stream into the opening of the toy, then drizzles it onto his impatient dick. He pauses to stare at the erect organ, shocked once he realizes that he doesn't even remember his own penis. It's long, easily longer than half of his forearm. A velvety looking foreskin is still covering most of the head, scrunched and veiny against the cold air of the room. Snapping himself out of the narcissistic admiration, Morgan finally brings the fleshlight up to settle against his tip. He pushes it down as his hips thrust upward, chapped lips falling open as his length is swallowed by the silky hole.

"Holy SHIT," he shudders, dragging it up and slamming the toy back down. It takes his entire length, almost making his eyes roll back when the soft edge smacks into his sensitive balls. He finds that he can't quite remember a rhythm, so his movements are clumsy and amateurish. Fortunately, his tendency to quickly learn new things services him especially well as he soon discovers the most pleasurable angle and pace. His legs spread wider and his balls tighten as an orgasm threatens to overtake him; he reaches down to cup his balls, noting how short the hair is even in his distracted state. Did he REALLY used to wax? He squeezes and jolts, back arching as he starts to feel an orgasm tighten in his groin. 

But suddenly, something moves.

He doesn't feel it internally but he feels it against his palm, wiggling upwards as his orgasm slams into him. Panic seizes him and he rips the fleshlight off of himself, dropping it and staring down at his cock as the white spurts arc up into the air through the ruined orgasm. Shaking, he sits up, reaching back down to feel his balls. 

Then the pain hits.

It's so intense that his first and only reaction is to scream, hands balling into fists and eyes squeezing shut as his body locks up. It feels like his scrotum is tearing open; his testicles as though they're popping like eggs under the heel of a boot.

"J-JANUARYYYYYYYYY," he screams, stomach heaving. He's only just able to roll over before he vomits, abdominal muscles wrenching tight as each new wave of agony tears up through his groin. "HELP ME!"

"What is it? What's happening? Should I call a medical operator?"

Then almost as soon as it started, it stops. A pressure builds at the base of his cock and he whimpers, terrified to look down in case his genitals are completely destroyed. He stares up at the ceiling with wide eyes as the pressure climbs upwards. Something warm and fucking wiggly is moving up his dick, almost sparking pleasure through the terror. By the time it reaches his tip he's half hard again, a small aftershock orgasm rushing up through him and pushing whatever it is out of his shaft.

Once he's determined that his junk is probably still intact, he allows himself a glance. A small, tentacled black lump is lying motionless on his belly, surrounded by a puddle of semen and thankfully only a small amount of blood. The utter shock keeps him from screaming again; instead he smacks the creature off of himself and flails out of the bed, squeezing his pillow and finally losing control of his bladder.

"Morgan....are you all right?"

January is strangely calm despite Morgan's obvious terror.

"I-I.....something was...it was INSIDE me, January. It was-it was in my goddamn BALLS," he sobs, rocking back and forth with his face smashed into the pillow.

"I was monitoring you the entire time and I saw nothing, Morgan," January reassures, voice dropping to a more soothing tone. "....I think your brain damage is causing hallucinations."

Morgan slumps against the bed, shivering in his own puddle of piss. "But the fucking PAIN!"

"Physical hallucinations are not rare in someone with your levels of brain damage. Plus, seeing the Typhon obviously disturbed you and didn't help the strain your brain is under," January explains, his voice calming Morgan enough to give him the courage to glance up where the lump had been.

It's not there. And there's no trail of fluids that might have signified it crawling off. There's still a fair anount of blood, but a glance down at himself reveals bloody nail marks everywhere. He must've clawed himself through the entire hallucination. What disturbs him the most now though is that January had been watching him that whole time.

"Morgan? You must trust me. I am here to keep you alive. If I saw something I would have a surgical operator to you in minutes."

Morgan nods, pulling himself up and struggling to keep himself upright. He swallows hard, forcing himself to place his life in the hands of this person he's never met.

"....okay. I trust you."

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr and Twitter: Maedhros36  
> I hope you enjoyed <333


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